


Game, Set, Match

by phoenixflight



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anonymity, Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent Due To Identity Issues, Identity Porn, M/M, Sex Toys, Sibling Incest, Social Media, Unresolved Sexual Tension, tinder au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-10-20 08:53:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17619338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixflight/pseuds/phoenixflight
Summary: The man’s profile was more photos of his body, a lean chest and perfect pink nipples, long legs, a hint of blond hair brushing his shoulders but no photos of his face. His bio was one line.Tell me how you would make me come.Auguste’s heart was pounding.





	Game, Set, Match

**Author's Note:**

> This work fills the squares for incest, anonymity, and sex toys on my kink bingo card, and my free square with pictures/recording. Read responsibly!  
> Big thanks to Kel for beta'ing and Exy for enthusiastic screaming and encouragement. <3

Auguste was on his phone, thumbing through Tinder profiles while he waited for Orlant to finish his reps on the barbells. He swiped rapidly, left, left, right, left. People started to look the same after a while on dating apps. Same angles, same filters, same bios.  _ Looking for a fun time! Like to play with my dog and go out with friends! _ Nothing wrong with that, of course, but he was feeling restless, an itch under his skin. The daily grind of office work, hit the gym, drinks with friends and hook-ups, wasn’t satisfying him anymore. He swiped left on a blonde girl and a cute twink for no particular reason. 

“You gonna be done before the next ice age?” he called to Orlant. 

“Fuck you, man,” Orlant wheezed, curling another rep. 

Auguste chuckled, and then paused, thumb on the screen. It wasn’t another insipid mirror selfie, it was just an ass. A beautiful one, round and smooth, the man half turned away from the camera, dick hidden by his leg, only his perfect ass on display. 

The info said,  **Star, 21, 2.5 miles away** . He was only a little older than Laurent. Auguste felt a jolt of arousal low in his gut, and glanced guiltily around the weight room as if someone might pluck the thought right out of his brain. He hesitated for a moment, and then swiped right. 

They matched, and he felt another shiver of interest. The man’s profile was more photos of his body, a lean chest and perfect pink nipples, long legs, a hint of blond hair brushing his shoulders but no photos of his face. Auguste’s heart was pounding. His bio was one line.  **Tell me how you would make me come.**

“Hey.” It was Orlant. 

“What?” Auguste blinked.

“I said ‘hey’. You were spaced the fuck out, man, what is it?” Orlant was rubbing sweat from his face with his towel. 

Auguste shook his head, laughing at himself. “Sorry. New Tinder match.” 

“Oh yeah? Show.” Orlant tossed his towel over his shoulders and took the phone when Auguste held it out. He thumbed through the photos and snorted. “Narcissist.” 

Auguste sputtered a protest. “He doesn’t look that much like me.” 

“No, he looks like a twink version of you. Anyway, people who don’t post their faces are creeps.” 

Given that the boy was a decade younger than Auguste, he didn’t think Star was the creep in this situation, but it had Auguste’s age (as well as his face, thank you very much) on his profile, and Star had swiped right. They were both consenting adults. 

“What should I say to him?” 

“Tell him you’ll make him come on your cock,” Orlant said, and an older man using the free weights threw them a very dirty look. 

“I’m sure everyone tells him that.” 

“Well, you can compose your sonnet to him while you spot me on the bench. C’mon. Bros before dicks.”    
  


After they’d showered and changed, Auguste said goodbye to Orlant outside the gym and took a lyft home, tugging his jacket tighter against the cold. He turned his phone over in his hands, the screen blank. It didn’t seem polite to look at semi-explicit photos in the back seat of a rideshare. The phone was still in his hand when he got to his apartment and let himself inside. He kicked off his shoes, looked down at the screen, and typed,  **I would kiss you all over and then lick your ass till you came on my tongue.**

The reply popped up before the screen had time to go blank.  **Tell me more.**

Auguste felt his heart beat speed up, the thrill of a new connection running through him.  **Where should we be? In bed? On the couch?**

There was a pause and then,  **Against the front door.**

The fantasy took shape in his mind.  **I couldn’t get you inside fast enough. I’d push you against the door, lift you up while I kissed you. Kiss your neck and under your jaw, make you shiver.**

**I bruise easily.**

**I’d mark you if you wanted. Whatever you wanted. Till you were arching up against me and begging for more. I’d undress you slowly, kiss your chest, lick your nipples.**

**Mmm I like that.**

**Yes. God, you have perfect nipples, I want my mouth on them.**

**That’s nice because you have a perfect mouth.** Auguste grinned down at his phone as another reply popped up.  **What next?**

**I’d undo your fly with my teeth.**

**Show-offy, but hot.**

**Lol. I’d tug your jeans off. Are you hard for me?**

**Absolutely.**

Auguste squeezed his own cock tenting his pants. There was an ambiguity to the message- hard in the fantasy or hard in real life?

**I’d kneel down, suck you a little, but just to tease us both. I want to taste you leaking on my tongue.**

**Yes.**

**But I’m not done. I’d get you to lift your leg up, tilt your hips forward so I could eat you out. You could ride my face, jerk yourself off while I tongue your ass. Come all over me.**

**You’d like that?**

**Fuck, yes. I’m so hard thinking about it.**

There was a long pause and then a new message.  **Add me on snapchat. Star-prince-xxx**

Auguste frowned, and typed,  **Just a sec** , then opened the app store to download Snapchat. 

When he’d finally managed to add  _ Star-prince-xxx _ as a friend, he stared down at the phone trying to figure out what to do next. A dick pic seemed too forward. He was saved from deciding by the ping of an arriving snap. He opened it and felt his dick pulse in his jeans. The boy was lying in bed, face out of frame again, chest bare, with sheets thrown over his crotch, visibly tented. Across the image the caption said,  **what are you wearing?**

Auguste tried a couple of selfie angles until he found one that showed the bulge in his own jeans, framed by his hand, and accentuated the muscles in his arm.  **Still in my living room** , he admitted, and hit send. 

In the next photo, Star’s hand was under the sheets, and he had one knee raised, opening himself, groin still teasingly hidden.  **What are you waiting for?**

Swearing out loud, Auguste yanked his shirt off and fumbled to unzip his pants, almost dropping his phone in the process. He snapped a photo of himself, considered, and took another of just his chest, which he sent. And then tried to ignore the fact that he was standing with his dick out in his living room in broad daylight on a Saturday afternoon. 

He was distracted by the answering snap, a close-up of an elegant pale hand wrapped around a cock, hiding the head, displaying the length. Auguste’s mouth watered, and before he could think better of it, he sent back  **want to suck you so bad.**

The next photo was of the boy’s balls and crack, his legs spread to take the photo, fingers of one hand lifting his balls up to expose his perineum and ass. **Here too?**

Auguste took a picture of his dick, frowned at it, adjusted his position to change the light from the window, and took another.  **Yes. I would lick you open for however long you want.**

There was a pause, and then,  **I want to come on your tongue.** The picture was a mirror selfie - Star had taken time to reposition. He was on his hands and knees, ass spread and reflected in the glass, captured by the camera, face hidden by his shoulder and a mess of blond hair. He looked edible. 

Auguste was stroking his cock hard, feeling close already from the sheer newness of it, the edge of illicitness. He sent another dick pic.  **Yes. I want to make you come everywhere.**

The next snap was a video - shaky and handheld. Star had moved again, lying back on the bed, stroking his cock fast and hard with his left hand and holding the camera with his other. The caption was **like this?** and Auguste felt a throb of excitement in his gut even before the video reached the end - Star’s cock, pink and perfect, beginning to shoot before the video cut off. Auguste’s balls throbbed as he swore at the tease. But another video was loading - the second half of Star’s orgasm, accompanied by a low moan, barely audible through the speakers. It said,  **now you** . 

Pressing and holding the camera button, Auguste tugged furiously on his cock, wishing he could watch the video again, replaying it again and again in his mind - a slender boy with a perfect round ass, stroking his cock until he shot, pink head exposed and glistening, the glimpse of blond hair - it wasn’t narcissism, it was something so much  _ worse _ than narcissism that made Auguste gasp and come all over himself in a blinding rush. 

He sent the video without a caption, heart racing and limbs weak from his orgasm. 

A moment later he got a text chat back.  **This was fun :) more soon.**

Hands shaking, he put his phone face down on the coffee table and went to wipe the come off, wondering what the hell he’d gotten himself into.

 

Auguste didn’t think of himself as the type of person who was glued to his phone, but he found himself checking his snapchat compulsively over the next few weeks as winter set into the city in earnest. He made the mistake of checking his snaps at work, and had to put the phone down rapidly, smothering laughter, at the photo of a bunch of dildos in boiling water on the stove. Orlant peered over the divider of their cubicles to tease him. 

Star was funny, sharp, and hot as hell with a wicked sense of the explicit and indecent. Auguste hadn’t felt this head over heels in ages, and it was over a fucking college kid. They messaged back and forth frequently. Sometimes they were raunchy, sometimes mundane. Star sent pictures of a sink full of dirty dishes captioned ‘fucking roomates’, and a photo of a lewd doodle in the margins of a notebook with calculus notes to one side. 

There were also videos of him jerking off, random dick pics that made Auguste hard at work, and once a close up of his neck, marked with hickeys, captioned  **wish it were you** . That photo had sent a shiver of jealousy through Auguste even as it had made his dick twitch. Never photos of his face, and that was fine. It was good to be cautious, especially when you apparently made a habit of sexting older men. Auguste tried not to think too hard about what that said about himself. 

One evening after dinner Auguste was watching a game and fiddling distractedly with his phone when a notification popped up - only one person ever snapped him, and his dick was already taking an interest as he opened the message. The image sent a jolt straight to his cock - a mirror selfie of Star’s ass, spread open, with the base of a blue plug nestled between his cheeks. The caption read,  **what next?**

Rubbing a hand over his growing erection, Auguste considered. Finally, sending a picture of the bulge in his jeans, he said,  **show me how big it is** . 

He got back a short clip of Star pulling the plug out slowly, so that the rim of his hole stretched around the toy, before sliding it back in, glistening and easy. It wasn’t a terribly large plug, but steeply curved. It must have hit Star’s prostate just right because at the end of the video the camera juddered and he let out a sharp, involuntary gasp. 

Auguste’s dick throbbed urgently. He’d figured out how to replay videos, and he pressed and held the notification until he could watch it again, just to hear that helpless little noise at the end. Star was generally intentional and performative in his erotic messages - the brief moments of unintentional pleasure were Auguste’s favorite glimpses of him. 

**How long have you had it in?** He texted. 

**I wore it to class,** Star replied. 

Auguste felt a flash of guilty heat rush through him.  **Naughty,** he typed back. 

Another video arrived - Star’s lower body, with him sitting on one heel so his foot pressed against the plug, rocking a little, cock hard between his legs.  **Teased myself like this all day,** the caption read. 

_ God _ . Auguste squeezed himself through his jeans.  **Did anyone see you?**

**Dunno ;) What would you have done if you’d seen me?**

Auguste yanked down his zipper, pulling out his cock. He sent a dick pic and captioned it,  **something stupid** . 

There was a pause and then,  **good thing I like that kind of stupid** . Another photo arrived rapidly after the first - Star’s hand holding a hefty, bulbous vibrator.  **Know what this is?**

**Yeah. Where are you gonna put it first?**

**Where do you want me to?**

Auguste stroked his cock, biting his lip as he thought about it. He’d never used one himself, but he’d had a girlfriend who used her vibrator while he fucked her, and he remembered the sensation at the root of his cock, near his balls, every time he pressed fully inside her. Taking a photo of his dick he drew a shaky arrow to the base and said,  **here** . 

The next snap was a video and Auguste felt a pulse of anticipation in his gut as he opened it. Star was on his back, knees spread, the plug just visible between his ass cheeks, beneath his tight balls. Auguste could hear the buzz of the vibrator running. Star gave his cock one gentle stroke, and then applied the head of the vibrator to the base of his cock. The video jerked as Star’s hips jolted, and he gave a muffled gasp. 

**On the plug,** Auguste texted him. His own cock was beginning to leak in his hand, making his strokes slick. 

The camera angle wasn’t very good - Star hadn’t bothered to angle himself into the mirror. Most of the shot was of his wrist holding the vibrator between his legs and his cock flexing against his forearm, but Auguste could see his hips working, and hear the low moans, almost lost under the loud buzzing of the toy. The head of Star’s cock was shiny with liquid, smearing against his forearm, and Auguste’s mouth watered with how badly he wanted to lick it off. 

**I want to suck you while you do that,** he sent, over a picture of his own leaking cock. 

There was a pause and then a text message - **make me come** . 

Auguste slouched down on the couch, knees spread, stroking his dick in earnest now.  **Run the vibe all the way up your cock, to the tip.**

The delay between messages built the anticipation. Auguste stared at his screen, heart pounding as he waited. As soon as the icon turned purple, he clicked it. Star pressed the bulbous head of the vibe against his cock close to his balls and drew it up. He got half way and pulled the vibrator away with a little whine. The caption said,  **too much** . His cock was red and glistening on screen, furiously hard. 

**Try again** , Auguste ordered, feeling his own balls drawing tight with the thrill of giving the instruction, the thought of being obeyed. 

This time in the video, Star got all the way from the base of his cock to the tip. The frame was shaking, his grip on the phone unsteady as he recorded. As the video ended, a drop of liquid beaded at the slit of his dick. 

Auguste shuddered, fucking into his own fist hard. His fingers shook as he typed one handed. It took him three tries to get the message composed correctly.  **Hold it against the tip until you come.**

The next video took a long time, so long that Auguste began to wonder if Star simply didn’t want to - if he’d ignored the order and gotten off some other way. 

But then another notification arrived. The video showed Star’s red, straining cock and there was an audible rushing noise on the recording as he took a deep breath. The camera shook as he pressed the ball of the vibe against the head of his cock. 

Auguste could see Star’s thighs trembling in the edge of the shot, hear the faint whimper he made. The urgent edge to his arousal, which had faded a little while he waited, slammed back into him. Star’s cock jerked, his balls visibly pulling up, the buzz of the vibrator harsh and merciless. He made a little choked sound as he came, almost a sob, that hit Auguste straight in the gut. Semen spilled messily onto the toy, dripping down his shaft in glistening strands as his cock twitched and spat again. 

Auguste pressed his thumb down to record and tried to hold the phone steady as he came also, pressing his legs together so that he would spill on his own thighs, instead of the couch cushions under him. He swore softly as he came, groaning. 

Afterward, he collapsed back on the couch and sent the message. His heartbeat was gradually slowing, pleasant lethargy filling him. 

His phone pinged.  **That was fun.**

Auguste grinned at his phone.  **Hope that vibe is washable.**

**It’s seen worse - do you think I’m an amateur?**

**Clearly not** . 

They texted innocuously for a while, over silly photos of the couch and the sticky vibrator.  **Doing anything fun over the holidays?** Auguste asked. 

**Going home to see my family** , came the reply. 

**That’s nice. My little brother is coming home from college too.**

**Is that a good thing?** Star asked. 

**Yeah** . Auguste hesitated.  _ I love him, _ was true but trite in a familial way and too weighty in any other sense to share with a casual hookup.  _ He’s one of my best friends _ wasn’t quite right - he and Laurent didn’t actually spend much time together with Laurent in school and him working, although Auguste would chose his company in a heartbeat over most of his friends.  _ I’m fucking in love with him _ , was not something he would ever admit. Eventually he typed, **I’m looking forward to having him around.**

 

That weekend, Auguste went to pick Laurent up at the student housing across town. Even though his university was only a few miles from home, they hadn’t seen each other since the start of term, and only sometimes talked on the phone. Laurent valued independence and Auguste was afraid of being overly protective - especially given some of the other feelings he had tangled up about Laurent. 

Auguste held his brother in a tight hug, breathing in the familiar smell of him, and ignoring the stab of guilt at how good his brother felt in his arms. Laurent snuggled into his embrace like he was still a kid, sighing against his neck, and Auguste fought a shiver. 

“Missed you,” he mumbled into Laurent’s hair. 

“Missed you too,” Laurent returned. 

The apartment felt full and homey with Laurent there - they cooked dinner together, moving easily around each other in the kitchen with the fluidity of two people who always knew where the other was. It was something Auguste remembered from watching their parents when they were alive - how the two of them always seemed connected by some kind of intangible thread. 

Laurent teased him for crying over the onions, criticized his julienning of carrots, and lectured him on leaving expired almond milk in the fridge. Auguste couldn’t stop grinning. After dinner they played blackjack for pretzel sticks until Laurent complained that pretzels weren’t dessert. They ended up watching a baking show, slouched on the couch with their shoulders pressed together, eating ice cream out of the carton. Auguste was happier than he’d been in months. 

They went to bed late. Laurent shut the door to the guest bedroom, on the other side of the apartment, as Auguste brushed his teeth. He’d just gotten into bed when his phone lit up with a notification and Auguste realized he hadn’t thought about Star all evening. For some reason it sent a jolt of guilt through him, which was stupid on a number of levels. 

For the first time, he considered ignoring the message. Having Laurent just a few rooms away made the whole blond college kid thing seem worse than normal. But in the end he opened the snap. It was a picture of an obscenely thick pink dildo with Star’s fingers wrapped around it - not meeting. It was captioned,  **want to play?**

Again he hesitated before texting back,  **yes** . 

**Took you long enough** , he got almost instantly, as a text chat, and then a picture message of three of Star’s fingers already deep in his ass.  **Started without you** . 

**Add another** , Auguste told him, pushing down the sheets to send a photo of his hard cock in his hand. 

Star obeyed, sending picture proof. The images were dark and slightly blurry, and Auguste wished desperately to be there in person, to watch and touch, and hear the sounds he made as he plunged four fingers into himself as deep as he could reach at that angle. 

**I want to do that to you** , he texted.  **My fingers are thicker than yours** . 

He got a video of Star’s fingers moving, gleaming as they slid into himself, rim stretching over his knuckles. It said  **YES PLEASE** across the center like a censor’s bar. 

Auguste was achingly hard already, cock beginning to leak over his fingers.  **Another** , he typed, one handed. 

He got a photo of Star’s hand - slender, elegant fingers, all shining wet up to the knuckle. It said,  **already had four. Wrong angle for my thumb. :(**

Auguste’s dick twitched at the thought of Star trying to fist himself.  **Can you really take that dildo?**

**Are you doubting me?** It read, over another shot of the dildo - it really was huge. 

**Why don’t you prove it to me** , he said. 

There was a short pause and then a video notification. Grinning, Auguste clicked on it. Star was kneeling on a bed, holding the phone between his legs to show him lowering himself on the dildo, hard cock bobbing in the foreground. The room behind him was dark and indistinct, but Auguste thought it was different than usual. Star must have gotten off school and gone home too. 

He made an indistinct little sound as he sank down on the dildo, a muffled groan. Part way down he pulled himself off and started again, working it a little deeper each time, breathing audibly. It was a long video, and Auguste’s cock was throbbing in his hand by the time it was done. 

He sent back a photo of his cock and wrote, **I wish that were me** . 

The phone chimed. In the video, Star rocked on the dildo, buried deep in his ass.  **I want to ride your cock until I scream** , it said. 

Auguste squeezed the base of his cock, and looked at the call button in the corner of the screen. They’d never talked in real time, although they’d heard bits of one another’s voices and moaning in videos. But Auguste felt crazy, wound tight, already reckless and over stimulated after his evening with Laurent - Star would ignore the call if he didn’t want to talk. He thumbed the button. 

It rang for a long time, which felt longer with Auguste’s heart in his throat and his dick throbbing in his hand. He’d almost given up when the line clicked. There was no greeting except the sound of rapid breathing on the other end, and Auguste’s cock twitched in his hand. He swallowed. “Hey,” he rasped. 

There was a pause and then, almost a whisper, “Hey.” 

Auguste groaned, squeezing his cock. There was something about Star’s voice that hit him deep in the hindbrain and in the gut. It was the perfect pitch, even breathy with arousal and quiet. “I wanted to hear you,” he managed. “You said something about screaming.” 

There was a muffled laugh and Star said, “Go ahead, then.”

“Tell me what you’re doing.” 

“You saw,” Star said, a little breathless. His voice was almost familiar, but he was probably imagining it over the low-quality sound connection. Wishful thinking. 

“Tell me.” 

“I’ve got the dildo in me. Thinking about you.” 

“How does it feel?” 

“Full,” Star gasped. “It’s so big.” 

“You’re fucking yourself on it?” 

“Yes.” The word was drawn out in a hiss.  

“Slow down,” Auguste ordered. “I want to take my time.”

Star whined softly. “I need more.” 

“Beg me.” 

Star’s breath caught and he groaned. “Please.”

“Please what?”

“Please fuck me!”

“Yes, god. I will. I want to.” 

Star moaned in his ear, an uneven, urgent sound. 

“Are you fucking yourself?” Auguste asked, breathless. “With the toy, pretending it’s me?” 

“Yes,” Star gasped. “Fuck me harder!” 

“Fuck, yes.” Auguste’s cock twitched and drooled in his grip. “I want to roll you over and pound you into the mattress. Pull your ass up and fuck you so good you’ll never want anyone else.” He could hear Star panting in his ear. “I’d leave handprints on your hips.” 

Star made a choking sound, and gasped, “I’m…” 

“Are you coming?” Auguste’s cock was slick in his hand. “Fuck I want to watch you come for me, I want to make you come all over yourself and lick it off you.”

Star groaned and whimpered as Auguste talked him through his orgasm, breathing raggedly on the other end of the line. Auguste tugged roughly on his own cock, feeling himself getting closer. 

Star sighed contentedly. “I made a mess for you.” 

An unexpected jolt of heat hit Auguste in the stomach. “Oh god, oh god, I’m going to come,” He curled forward, entire body tensing. “I’m coming, I’m, I’m-” 

“Come for me, Auguste,” Star said, and his orgasm crashed over him, shuddering through every inch of him, shooting come all over his chest and the sheets. 

Afterward he lay limp and insensible, staring up at the ceiling. His phone was on his chest and the line was still connected. Slowly his brain cells began to come back on line and he frowned. Star knew him as Gus - that was the name on his dating profile, and he was pretty sure the only one he’d ever mentioned to Star. He picked up the phone, too relaxed to really feel suspicious, more curious. If Star had been stalking him, that was kind of flattering. “How do you know my real name?”

There was a long pause, guilty enough that Auguste woke up a little more and started paying attention. And then Star said, in a clear voice and familiar tone, “I’ve known your name forever, idiot. Goose was my first word.” 

Auguste felt a rush of icy mortification roll over him. He gaped up at the ceiling but before he could muster a response, the line went dead. That was - that had been - it couldn’t be - could it? 

But who else would have known about Laurent’s silly childhood nickname for him? The blond hair, the lean body, the hidden face. A college kid. Auguste sat up abruptly, face burning with a wave of prickly heat like nausea. Holy fuck. 

But he hadn’t known, he’d - another thought blindsided him, belatedly. Laurent had known. Of course he had, Auguste’s face was right there on his tinder profile. Laurent had known the whole time.

Auguste swung himself out of bed, grabbed his boxers, thought better of that and grabbed a pair of sweatpants instead. Swearing, he realized he still had come all over himself, and wiped it off haphazardly with a tee shirt from the laundry basket. Then he marched across the living room and pounded on Laurent’s door. 

Part of him expected to be mistaken, still. That Laurent would open the door fully dressed in pajamas, sleep rumpled and innocent. That he’d yell at Auguste for waking him and they’d go back to their normal lives. 

But Laurent opened the door stark naked, cheeks flushed. 

Auguste gaped at him for a moment, yanking his eyes up from his brother’s bare body, and found his voice. “What the fuck, Laurent?” 

Laurent’s mouth turned down, jaw tightening in a familiar stubborn expression. “What?” 

“What do you mean,  _ what _ ?” Auguste threw his hands in the air. “You! We!” 

“Yes?” Laurent’s voice was icy, miles away from how he had sounded on the phone - while he  _ came to the sound of his own brother’s voice _ . 

Auguste drew a deep breath. “We’ve been fucking!” 

“Not technically,” Laurent drawled. 

“Laurent,” Auguste groaned. He recognized that false bravado. “You can’t just _ do  _ things like this.”  

Laurent crossed his arms over his bare chest. “You would never have done anything if I hadn’t.” 

“Yeah because you’re my  _ brother _ . You…We...” Auguste stopped, and rubbed his face. “We can’t do this. You shouldn’t have started it.” 

“You want me,” Laurent said, lifting his chin defiantly. “You have for years. And I did too, so I don’t see what so wrong about it.” His words were hard, posture closed off, but there was an uncertain edge to his tone. 

“Except for the fact that I didn’t know?” Auguste sighed, and watched guilt flicker over Laurent’s face. He rubbed his eyes again. “That wasn’t okay, and you know it.” 

Laurent looked away, jaw tight. In the silence, they could hear the traffic outside and the water rattling in the building pipes. Finally, Laurent said in a small voice, “Do you hate me?” 

Auguste let out a heavy breath. “ _ No _ . Laurent, no. I don’t  _ hate  _ you.” 

Laurent sniffed loudly, not looking at him. 

Auguste sighed, and held out his arms against his better judgement. “C’mere.” 

He folded his brother in his arms. Laurent made a tiny sound and squeezed him tightly, burying his face in Auguste’s neck. Their bare chests were pressed together. Hesitantly, Auguste let his hand rest on Laurent’s shoulders, trying to ignore the fact that Laurent was naked and pressed close against his front. There was only the thin layer of his sweat pants separating them. Laurent nestled closer and Auguste began to get a sinking, inevitable feeling in his gut. “Laurent,” he began, warningly. 

“I’m sorry,” Laurent whispered, breath damp against his neck. Auguste suppressed a shiver. “I didn’t mean to trick you, I just… I’ve wanted you so badly, and I thought it was harmless. I told myself I’d stop and you’d never know. But I… it was so good. Nothing’s ever been that good.” The whispered confessions in his ear were making Auguste’s body take notice, blood pumping faster. 

“It’s ok,” he murmured, before he could think better of it. He’d intended it as a general reassurance, a habitual expression of comfort. But Laurent made a soft, needy sound that went straight to his cock, and nuzzled his nose against Auguste’s cheek. 

“Can we - please. I want…” His hands were warm on Auguste’s back, pressing him close. 

Auguste opened his mouth with a denial on the tip of his tongue, but then Laurent squirmed against him and made another inquisitive little noise. Auguste’s breath caught in his chest as Laurent turned his head, their cheeks brushing together. Making a pained, urgent noise, Laurent crushed their mouths together. 

Auguste gasped, lips parting in surprise, as he felt Laurent’s tongue slide against his. It sent a shock of heat through him, pooling in his stomach, and his control snapped. 

His hands came up to hold Laurent and he found himself touching bare skin, palms pressed against Laurent’s smooth back. Parting his lips a little more, he let Laurent lick inside and kissed him back. It was sloppy and urgent, uncoordinated and so, so good. Laurent was whimpering into his mouth and pressing closer. He could feel his brother’s erection against his thigh, and his own cock was tenting his sweatpants undeniably. Laurent’s hands were tangled in Auguste’s hair, tugging his head down, face tilted up to kiss him better. 

They swayed together, Laurent almost on his tip toes. "I can't believe we're doing this," Auguste panted. "I can't believe we’ve  _ been _ doing this."

"Shut up," Laurent groaned. "Are you gonna fuck me or not?"

Auguste sucked in a sharp breath, whole body shuddering, and Laurent grinned against his mouth. They toppled onto Laurent’s bed together - the sheets were tangled and smelled of sex, and Laurent’s body. Breathing in, Auguste felt his cock twitch. 

Laurent’s fingers slipped under the waistband of his pants and yanked, and just like that they were naked together in bed. Auguste felt his heart trip with uncertainty, and he froze, propped up on his elbows, staring down at his little brother. Laurent looked back at him, lips red from kissing, eyes clear. 

“Are you sure…” Auguste began. 

“Auguste.” Laurent gave him a small smile, like he had said something amusing. “I’ve been sure for years.” 

As that thought rocked through him, Laurent tugged him down to kiss at his slack mouth. Years. He groaned against Laurent’s lips, running his palm down Laurent’s bare chest, brushing one of his pink, hard nipples. It made him gasp, so Auguste did it again, stroking a hand over his chest and thumbing at his nipple, making him shiver and arch beneath him. The movement dragged their cocks together and Auguste groaned. 

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon,” Laurent muttered, tugging at his hair. “I’m ready. I want you to put your cock in me.” 

Shuddering hard, Auguste dropped his head against Laurent’s shoulder, trying to get ahold of himself and looking down between their bodies. Laurent’s cock - familiar from pictures and videos, was hard and flushed against his stomach, almost exactly the same size as his own - he’d never noticed that because Laurent’s hands were smaller and in photos the scale was impossible to tell. The tip was gleaming wet, and Auguste’s mouth watered - wanted to lick it off, taste him, make him come in his mouth. 

But Laurent had gotten impatient, and was squirming under him, stretching an arm across the bed for a bottle of lube lost in the sheets. Following his hand, Auguste saw the bright pink base of the huge dildo also abandoned on the other side of the bed, and had a dissonant moment of habitual paternalism-  _ did he even wipe that off? He’d better be doing laundry soon. _

The cap of the lube snapped open, and Auguste gasped as Laurent closed a cold, slick hand around his dick. He swore, and Laurent laughed in his ear, stroking him perfunctory before drawing his knee up to his chest. Auguste felt his breath stutter in his lungs as he looked down at his brother spreading himself open for him. His hole was pink and swollen, soft-looking, as Laurent guided his cock down and swiped his wet fingers over himself. Auguste drew a shaking breath, trying to control himself as the head of his cock pressed into Laurent. 

Laurent was still slick and open. His cock slid in easily. He couldn’t claim to be bigger than the pink dildo, but Laurent’s body was still deliciously warm, clutching at his cock and drawing him in hungrily. Laurent hitched his hips a little for a better angle and sighed contentedly. 

Auguste shuddered, hands clawed in the sheets on either side of Laurent’s head. He felt cracked open and raw, already on edge. Carefully, he rolled his hips, and Laurent groaned, hooking a leg behind his thigh to urge him deeper. The bedframe creaked as he thrust harder. 

It had been so easy to dirty talk on the phone, but now there were no words, just the quiet hitch of Laurent’s breathing, the scrape of his nails on Auguste’s back as he pulled him closer, the tight heat of his body around Auguste’s cock. The air between them was hot and damp with their breath, heavy with the smell of sex. Sweat trickled between Auguste’s shoulder blades. 

Bending his head, Auguste sucked a mark into the tender flesh beneath Laurent’s collar bone, where it could be hidden, and Laurent clutched at his head, holding him close. He felt Laurent’s groan reverberate in his ribs, under Auguste’s lips, could hear Laurent’s heart pounding hard, matching his own. His balls were tight, heat throbbing in his gut, building. Laurent was panting in his ear, hot gusts of breath against his neck. 

Auguste slid his hand down and cupped his brother’s cock, velvety and hot against his palm. He stroked Laurent hard and fast, the way he had watched Star do on video, trying to mimic his actions and hearing Laurent’s breath come short and harsh. His cock was leaking copiously, making his fingers slick. 

Auguste’s thumb slid over the wet tip, dipping into the slit, and Laurent made a strangled, gasping noise. He clenched down hard around Auguste’s dick as his cock twitched and pulsed come out over his stomach and his brother’s hand. His eyes were closed, face flushed and twisted in pleasure. 

Groaning, Auguste felt the hot, shivery flush of his own orgasm as he watched his brother writhe beneath him, feeling his body tighten on his cock. He bit down on Laurent’s shoulder, and thrust deep, trembling as he came.

He managed to keep from collapsing directly on top of Laurent - rolling them both to the side. Laurent whined as it shifted his cock inside him, still mostly hard. They lay together, panting, sweat gradually cooling until Laurent made a disgruntled noise and disentangled himself. Auguste’s skin was suddenly cold where Laurent had been pressed against him. Fumbling for the tangled sheets, he pulled them up over himself, grimacing at the damp patches - they hadn’t been very neat. 

Closing his eyes, he drifted off, listening to Laurent shuffled around the room. The water ran in the bathroom next door, and he heard Laurent’s footsteps again. The mattress dipped, and then his brother’s bare arm brushed against his chest as Laurent sat beside him. He opened his eyes. 

Laurent had his phone out. Auguste slung an arm around his waist and tucked his head on his brother’s shoulder. “What’re you doing?” he asked through a yawn. 

Laurent snuggled against his side, the blue light of the phone glowing on his face. “Deleting my tinder profile.” 

“Oh?” 

“Mmm. It was interesting while it lasted, but I don’t think I need it anymore.”

Auguste grinned, and yawned again, the warm lethargy of sleep pulling him down. “You’re keeping snapchat though, right?” 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are love!  
> Follow me on tumblr at [ stillwaterseas](http://stillwaterseas.tumblr.com/) or at my fandom blog [seas-of-ios](https://seas-of-ios.tumblr.com/)


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